The Boy Behind The Mask
by skyressshun
Summary: Kai thinks about why he has his markings


**Just another Kai one shot that I've wanted to do for awhile**

Staring into the hotel mirror he brought up a cloth to wipe off the paint. He had worn the strange markings since he was seven years old. They had become as much a part of him as his eyes. He couldn't count the amount of times he had been asked, be it by fans or his team why he wore the unusual blue marks on his face.

The truth was he wore them to hide. As bizarre as it may sound it was the truth. The blue markings were used to hide. From what? Everyone, they hid him from everyone. His family, his team and his friends. He hid from them all, why? The answer was simple he was afraid. Afraid, the word didn't suit him, everyone thought him as fearless when in reality he was scared. Scared of people being close to him, people finding out what he truly was. A frightened child who puts up a front to keep people away.

He fixed an emotionless mask on wherever he was, not that he wanted to but it was the only way he knew to keep people at bay. He had learned throughout his life that when people got close to you, when you extended your trust to them they shattered it throwing it back in your face. That was all he knew and he had learnt it from his family, his grandfather to be exact. For it was that man who had made his father leave him. That man who took him away from the loving family he had, away from the only people who could gain a real smile from him. He hadn't smiled properly in years; he couldn't even remember what it was like to smile a sincere smile.

Throughout his childhood he wore these marks, they were the only thing that gave him confidence. Confidence that had been ripped away during the many beatings and harsh words his grandfather threw his way.

It was sad, really sad that the only way he felt secure in himself was by wearing paint. But it was all he had to give him the confidence he was missing out on. The confidence that the small child had before all those cruel and lonely years trapped in that house or in the abbey.

The abbey, that place was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Not only was he beaten and screamed at in there, but he was regularly sent back to Voltaire just so that sorry excuse of a man could _remind_ him who was the master and who was the servant in the family.

Through those late nights locked in a room or a cell he sat crying to himself as all the strength he had formally had disappeared more and more till all he was, was a broken shell of the boy he once knew.

It was at that time that he needed something to help him regain his strength. On his seventh birthday his grandfather had just left him on the floor in his room, a bloodied mess he claimed it was his birthday present. He laid there for what felt like hours crying trying to pick himself up. He had finally managed to do so crawling over to his bed. He had searched his drawer for something anything that could remind him of the boy he once was.

He had found a small little case in the bottom of a drawer. He remembered it as being blue face paint his mother once put on him for Halloween. He had hid it from Voltaire in case he tried to throw it away he couldn't have been more grateful that he hadn't.

He had sat there on the floor blood still running from his many wounds tracing the small case as memories of his mother resurfaced. He could remember what his mother had dressed him as on the last Halloween he'd had. She had said he was a warrior painting him with 'war paint'. He had tried to recreate those markings she had done but it was so long ago that he couldn't remember it exactly. So the markings did look a little strange but he was content wearing them proudly, even when having just put them on the familiarity had given him back much of the confidence he had once had. Not all of it was restored as much of it was destroyed by the two men who were supposed to be his guardians.

However the boost in confidence had been what had kept his faith in life alive allowing him to live through the pain to hopefully a better future. He had worn them ever since enjoying the memories they brought with them and loving the reaction he gained from them after so long of fearing anybody who came close to him, people were now weary of him. He didn't have to fear everything anymore he could try and be the child his grandfather wanted. He could perhaps gain the man's acceptance and maybe even love.

A sad smile graced the normally emotionless face as he recalled the background of his markings. Shaking his head slightly at how naïve he was, that naivety was long gone. Rinsing the cloth out he stared at the plain face noting how quickly the change in him took place. The placid face with eyes that shone with determination was gone replaced with a scared, sad face eyes showing the hardships he had gone through. The spirit that had been like a burning inferno had been dowsed maybe even extinguished altogether.

Flicking the light off he entered the room he was sharing with Ray. The other was already fast asleep making his job at hiding that much easier.

The thick covers did nothing to warm the broken boy as every time he closed his eyes his grandfather's face came into view, chilling him and making whatever warmth the covers offered useless. Keeping his eyes closed he forced his body to sleep despite knowing the nightmares he would suffer that night just like every other.

**Read review**


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